


you'll always be my thunder

by cinema_cucumber (beautiful_as_endless)



Series: Ry's flash fics [4]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018), Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: Chaos is a ladder, M/M, gresca lives mga hunghang, para kay yuyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautiful_as_endless/pseuds/cinema_cucumber
Summary: A rainy day in the middle of a noodlehouse is not the perfect place to find some semblance of peace.
Relationships: Gregorio del Pilar/Eduardo Rusca
Series: Ry's flash fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815472
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	you'll always be my thunder

It’s raining again.

The small noodle house is jam-packed with employees from the building right across the street, grumbling about the sudden — albeit expected — change in weather. Grab Food and Food Panda riders mingle outside, sharing a smoke while waiting for their orders. Overhead, the radio blares a silly old 90’s love song.

It irks Greg. The peace he usually enjoys in this dainty little place has been ruined by the crowd. With people flocking here due to the rain, catching a proper glimpse of _him_ is difficult.

The long line doesn’t help matters either. His time is his own now, he knows, but having to waste ten precious minutes just because people equate cold weather and rain to _fucking noodles_ infuriates him.

“Grabe naman ‘yung foul mood ni Sir Greg ngayon ah.” The guy at the counter — Waki, the working student — notes as he jots down the order.

“Crowds.” Greg cusses out as he nearly drops his wallet while trying to fish it out of his tight pocket.

“Weh.” Waki takes his sweet time fishing out change for the crisp bills. “‘Kala ko sabi mo dati na _your charismatic ass loves crowds?_ ”

“True.” Greg pockets his wallet, heavy with thirty pesos’ worth of coins. “Basta. Malalim lang iniisip ko.”

“May sinisipat ka, ‘no?”

“None of your business,”

Greg settles back on his chair, his empty bag still thankfully intact despite the swelling crowd. The music changes to an old Eraserheads hit — Ligaya — as someone adjusts the infernal air conditioning to make it _colder._

Seconds turn into minutes ticking slowly by as he waits for his order. Try as he might, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of _him_. Is he late? This has never happened in the past two years, though Greg understands that there’s always a first time for everything, no matter how _awful_ the thing is.

Unfortunately, it’s also his first time too have a proper happy crush. This absence is making him particularly _unhappy_.

Thunder rumbles overhead, driving his point home.

On the tenth minute mark, he prepares to get up to follow up on his order. Setting his bag down, he pushes his chair away from the table but freezes in his tracks when he sees someone emerge from the crowd like a slightly pudgy angel who smells of noodles and freshly-baked bread. The shop owner’s son himself, Ed, is _finally here_ , a tray laden with Greg’s orders in hand.

“Hello,” he greets the mildly disgruntled man, setting down the tray carefully on the table with a cheeky smile.

“Hey.” Greg flashes what he hopes is a nonchalant smile as he settles down again, content at last. Slowly, he tugs the tray closer to him.

Ed stops him, placing a hand on his wrist. “Hinay hinay, hot ka — este, _‘yan_.” As if to punctuate his words, he makes a soft, sizzling noise before pulling away.

 _Hot ka_. Greg’s brain turns into an absolute mush as his cheeks begin to burn pink. He loses sense of time. No, he loses sense of his entire _being_. His brain refuses to process what just happened. It refuses to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, his interest might actually be reciprocated this time around. He just stares and stares and stares in shock.

Ed chuckles nervously. “Anyway, uhm, may mga iba pang order ‘dun. _See you later_ , Greg.”

Of course, the total fool that he is, Greg just watches him walk away with a gobsmacked look on his face. People are staring but he doesn’t care _one damn_ anymore. All he can think of is the fact that Ed was _smooth._ Too smooth.

Only when his phone buzzes to remind him that he only has ten minutes left to finish his meal does he sober up. With a long-suffering sigh, he demolishes his way into his lunch, scarfing down the now-tepid noodles in his mouth as fast as he can. He nearly chokes at one point but he somehow manages to regain his composure before all hell breaks loose.

It’s a win, at least.

However, his well-crafted semblance of calm turns into nothing but a spluttering mess as soon as he picks up the tissue to wipe his lips with. His brain completely and utterly malfunctions at the sight of the cell phone number hastily scribbled on one of the sheets with a _bright orange pen_.

His heart and mind will _never_ recover from this.

**Author's Note:**

> :D


End file.
